Page 202 of Nine-Tenths
Amid Simcoe's back-bench supporters is Laura Secord. She's subdued, the warm and generous woman I first met now dampened. The rest of the Favorites spark and shine, but even her clothing is muted, without any jewels, any metallic thread, any crystal. She doesn't indicate that she's seen me. She just sits there, stone-still, looking as tremulously furious as I feel.
The queen raises her hand, and the room goes silent.
"We are gathered to discuss the conduct of the Marquess Niagara, Alva-draig Tudor, seated before me thus." She cuts her palm in our direction, and Dav actually flinches. I reach out, under the table, and link our pinkies. "The Right Honourable Lieutenant Governor Lord Francis-dragoun Simcoe has leveled against him serious charges of territory mismanagement, and of breaking our most strongly-held taboos. The charge-sheet has already been read before the court."
Dav blanches. Laura flinches like she's been hit. Simcoe rises to his feet victoriously, holding a long roll of illuminated parchment aloft like the head of a conquered warlord. I want to punch him in the nose.
"However," the queen continues, before Simcoe can speak. "It has come to my attention that the Marquess’ behavior has not been so dire as it has been painted by Lord Simcoe. In lieu of a sentencing, the esteemed honored peers gathered here will instead have the pleasure of first being made privy to the scientific research the Marquess and his Favorite have commissioned."
"What," Simcoe hisses. He crumples the paper in his fist.
I turn to Dav, just to make sure I heard what I think I heard. He's looking at me with what I'd bet dollars-to-donuts is a matching expression of wide-eyed surprise.
"I beg your pardon, Ma'am…?" he asks.
"You have the floor, Lord Niagara."
"Your Majesty, the labor!" Simcoe splutters. "The interference! He went over your head to the Scottish King!"
I jump to my feet. "We were invited to visit my aunt, who is Collected and is part of His Majesty’s hoard."
"You deliberately disrespected the queen's desire that you not speak about—"
"Mydesire, Lord Simcoe?" the queen interrupts him, and he flinches to a stop.
Laura's mouth tightens, but otherwise she doesn't react. I can't tell if she's more embarrassedbyhim, or by beingassociatedwith him, but she's definitely humiliated.
"As relayed through your advisers, Ma'am," Simcoe adds apologetically.
"Advisers that you, in turn, advised yourself," a dragon to the queen's right says, standing. She's clearly related to Elizabeth Regina, with the same pale complexion and serious eyes, but herhair is more brown than red, and holy shit, that's Anne Coronam Reginae.
"Ah," Simcoe prevaricates.
The crown princess leans on the railing of the royal box, elbows locked and eyes narrowed at Lt. Gov. ThornInMySide. "Had David Beithir not informed me that he had been visited by a dissatisfied Marquess of our court, who had beendeniedhis right to petition an audience, we should never have known the Marquess of Niagara was seeking one at all."
A low murmur scurries around the room.
"Who are you to decide who may or may not speak with the crown?" the princess challenges.
"I was merely saving the queen the bother of—"
"Idecide what is a bother to me, Lord Simcoe," the queen hisses. The princess sits, content that she's tightened the screws. "You seem to be in need of this reminder quite often, today."
"Apologies, Ma'am," Simcoe says with a bow. One of the dragons clustered around his table murmurs something to him as he straightens, smirk back in place. "But we all know that the rules about laboring for humans are a necessary evil. The population of humans is simply too large to sustain, and we—"
"That's Malthusian bull-shiii-crap!" I break in. "There's more than enough land, and food, and water for every living thing on this planet, Ma'am. The issue ismismanagement."
Simcoe bristles. "You have norightto interrupt me, your voice is worthless in this chamber—"
"Then I'm sure the paparazzi that must be hanging around in the bushes wouldloveto put a microphone in front of me," I throw at him. "Do you have the ones on this side of the pond leashed, I wonder?"
Another round of shocked quiet filters through the room, only to be followed by the sound of the queen's amused chuckling.
"You were not wrong when you called him idealistic to the point of stubbornness, little drake," the queen says with an intimate softness, directly to Dav.
"No ma'am," Dav says, punctuating it with a put-upon sigh. "I was not."
Simcoe makes a noise like an overheated teakettle. "Surely you're not seriously entertaining proposals for territory management overhauls from thishuman. Let your more experienced counsel review the research and provide the suggestions. I would be happy to work with—"
